


Where's the fun without a little danger?

by sumhowe_sailing



Series: rafflesweek2018 [3]
Category: Raffles - E. W. Hornung
Genre: M/M, semi-public displays of affection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-03-29 22:33:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13936809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sumhowe_sailing/pseuds/sumhowe_sailing
Summary: For the prompt "Danger".





	Where's the fun without a little danger?

“Raffles, are you insane?” I hissed as he dragged me into the alley.

“Am I?” he smirked. “It is on your account then—you drive me mad.” Against my better judgement, I let him crowd me against the rough brick wall, into the shadows. But even my absurdly weak will managed to protest when he leaned down to nuzzle at my neck. I grasped at him even as I tried to tell him we could not do this.

“Not here, A.J., please, someone’s going to walk by.”

“Mmm,” he mused, pressing a kiss to the sensitive skin just below my ear before whispering, “yes, I dare say they will, my dear.”

“They’ll see us!”

“Not so loud, love.” He did not argue further; or rather, his argument became nonverbal – fingers tugging at the hem of my shirt, sliding beneath, brushing against bare skin, lips grazing over mine before wandering to every inch of skin they could find, his knee insinuating itself between mine, pressing himself closer. I gave up fighting against the irresistible will of Raffles and surrendered to the thrill of the moment.

Yet even as I pulled him closer, I could not stop myself dwelling on the danger of our position. The street was hardly a dozen paces away. True, it was late and there were not many people in this part of town, but even one curious gaze would be enough. Even as I gasped into the crook of his neck, I fancied I could hear the shouts of the police officer or the scandalized muttering of the crowd in the courtroom, or the footsteps of…

“Raffles, do you hear that?”  
“Mmm?”

“Stop, listen.”

His hands did not stop roving, but he turned his head toward the street. The footsteps were most definitely real—yet he did not step away from me. Whoever was passing by, they sounded close enough that I dared not say a word to Raffles, only glare futilely at him as he continued to hold me trapped against the wall. He turned toward me again, leaning so his lips were practically against my ear and whispering, “Where’s the fun without a little danger?”

It stung to hear that this moment between us wouldn’t be sufficiently ‘fun’ for him if it were taking place back in the Albany, in the relative safety of his rooms. I doubted I should ever tell him as much. He would merely laugh and tell me I was too sensitive, far too sensitive. Still, the combination of this new annoyance and the very real danger walking past damped the mood for me. I extricated myself from Raffles, pushing him away with perhaps a trifle more force than necessary. He smirked at me as he took my arm, not allowing me to set myself to rights before leading me back out to the street.


End file.
